


Dates

by fhsa_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: First Time, Snippets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-07-13
Updated: 2005-07-13
Packaged: 2019-02-05 19:07:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12800436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fhsa_archivist/pseuds/fhsa_archivist
Summary: A short little snippet involving Saturday, painting, Cheerful!Teasing!Skinner - VERY Confused!Doggett - oh, and some mild smut.





	1. part 1 First Date

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Haven, the archivist: This story was originally archived at [Fandom Haven Story Archive (FHSA)](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Fandom_Haven_Story_Archive), was scheduled to shut down at the end of 2016. To preserve the archive, I began working with the OTW to transfer the stories to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. If you are this creator and the work hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Fandom Haven Story Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/fhsa/profile).

So. 

 

Here he is again. Not really sure why. He just... seems to turn up with increasing regularity these days. I suppose I don't mind - hell, there's no 'suppose' about it. He's good company, comfortable to be with. 

 

Away from work, of course - there, it's a different story. There he's the AD-with-an-attitude. And I'm with the X-Files. Thankfully, he doesn't treat me with the same skepticism with which he always treated Mulder. 

 

We've both seen too much for that. 

 

Anyway - here we are... Saturday morning. I'm only half awake, mumbling and stumbling as I lead him into the kitchen. "Make coffee," I direct. "I need a shower." 

 

He shrugs his agreement and I take off. No need to tell him where the coffee is - this is a regular thing these days. Every weekend he shows up - disgustingly cheerful considering the ungodly hour at which he arrives. 

 

After my shower, I head back down to join him. I'm starting to wake up now. Coffee should help me along my way. I pass through the living room - he's got the TV on, watching cartoons. 

 

Who'd have ever suspected? 

 

Returning with a cup of steaming coffee, I sit at the other end of the couch from him. Silently, we watch the TV while drinking our morning caffeine. 

 

"So," I finally venture, "what's on the agenda for today?" 

 

"Your porch needs a new coat of paint," he informs me. 

 

I groan. "I HATE painting, Skinner." 

 

"So I've noticed." 

 

Oh? What does THAT mean? "You complainin'?" 

 

A small smile appears on his face. "Nope - just offering to help. I don't mind painting - actually, I miss keeping up a house." 

 

Oh. This is a first... he NEVER mentions - or even alludes to - his marriage. The home they shared. Their life together. 

 

I hope he doesn't expect ME to talk about my marriage! 

 

"Right," I grumble. "Porch - paint... I think I have some leftover paint in the basement." 

 

He shakes his head. "No," he says. "I think a new color for the trim on the house is needed - white is... boring." 

 

Yeah? Then it occurs- 

 

"The trim? ALL the trim?" I ask, somewhat horrified at the thought. 

 

He nods solemnly. "Yes, John. New color on the trim... Sage Green, I think. And while we're at it, the whole house could use a coat of paint. A yellowish-brown, maybe." 

 

Fuck ME! 

 

"Jesus, Skinner - can't I just hire someone to do it?" 

 

"Nope," he says cheerfully. "C'mon - finish your coffee and we'll go to the store to pick out colors." 

 

"You," I accuse, "sound like my wife." 

 

Then I sink down into the couch and cover my face with both hands. He's gonna kill me - if I don't die of embarrassment first, that is. Thankfully, he ignores my lapse and concentrates on Tom and Jerry. 

 

After a second cup of coffee, feeling at least mostly awake and having resigned myself to - - painting, I turn to him. "We might as well go now," I tell him in a voice that leaves no doubt about how I feel about what he's planned for the day. 

 

***** 

 

Christonacrutch! All my very justified reasons for hating this kind of work come back to me vividly. Standing in the shower, letting the hot water ease my sore muscles, I wonder WHY I gave in - even more, why doesn't it seem at all odd that I've accepted his presence in my life so easily? 

 

He's still here - waiting for his turn in the shower. Down in the kitchen starting dinner. 

 

A rather frightening thought occurs... are we dating? 

 

Do I WANT us to be dating? 

 

SHIT! Impatiently, I get out of the shower, dry off and dress in a comfortable pair of shorts. I'm not gonna think about it. 

 

Before heading downstairs, I search my drawers for something that might fit him. Ah ha! A baggy pair of sweats, boxers, and a t-shirt. That should suffice. I leave the clothes in the bathroom, get a fresh towel out for him, and then go down to the kitchen. 

 

"Your turn," I announce. "I found something clean for you to wear - go on and clean up." 

 

"Okay." He turns down the heat under the rice, checks the chicken baking in the oven, then gives me directions re the rice before leaving the room. 

 

Beer in hand, I go to the living room and collapse on the couch. TV on, I let my mind wander. He's upstairs... in my shower... NAKED - slippery - DAMN. 

 

Yes, I realize, I DO want us to be dating. In fact, I want it badly. He's so - his presence in my home, the easy way we seem to fit together... shit. I'm not - HE'S not - 

 

Is he? 

 

Am I? 

 

Sure, in my misspent youth I experimented with other guys. So, I suppose, did he. But. So many years ago, that was. And, I'd decided that I liked women - preferred them - right? 

 

Then why, all of the sudden do I find myself considering... 

 

By the time he rejoins me - looking mighty fine in those sweats and that tight t-shirt - I've turned the heat off under the rice and set the table. And am well into my second beer. 

 

He checks on the chicken again, grunts and sets the timer for another 15 minutes, grabs himself a beer and walks in to sit on the couch. I watch his every move. Closely. Then, I shrug and join him in front of the television. 

 

"Are we dating?" 

 

Oh my god! WHO said that? 

 

Skinner glances at me from the corner of his eye. "Not as long as you persist in calling me Skinner." 

 

Huh? 

 

"I make it a firm rule never to date people who call me by my last name." 

 

Okay. "Um... do you WANT us to be dating... Walt?" I shift uncomfortably as he turns the full force of his attention on me. "I mean - are you even um... do you even DO that? Date men, I mean." 

 

"Not for many years now - since before my marriage." 

 

"Sooo - why me?" 

 

A wicked grin curls his mouth. "Because you're hot, John-Boy. And cute." 

 

Hot? Okay, I can live with that, but... CUTE? 

 

Who is this guy and what has he done with my boss? 

 

"I am NOT cute," I tell him sulkily, arms crossed on my chest. 

 

"Uh huh," he says. Humoring me now. What have I gotten myself into? 

 

"I'm NOT - no way, no how. Not cute. Handsome," I tell him firmly. "Manly." 

 

He snorts. 

 

Somehow, I think that he'll now take every opportunity to tell me I'm ... CUTE. 

 

Why don't I mind all that much? 

 

A couple of swallows of beer give me a much-needed chance to regroup. Yeah... retreat and regroup. I set the bottle aside and look at him - really look at him. 

 

How the hell can he be so fucking calm about this? He's so... CALM. Staring back at me with placid chocolate eyes, a slight smile on his lips... NOT breathing noticeably hard like I am. 

 

"What... ah - " 

 

That would be me - unable to string a coherent thought together. 

 

I frown and swallow. Open my mouth for another try - then groan... 

 

Fuck this! 

 

With more confidence than I'm actually feeling, I move right next to him, put my arms up around his neck, and kiss him. He freezes for a beat. Then - damn! - THEN he unfreezes. 

 

His arms close behind me, he growls - yes, GROWLS - and opens his mouth to mine. 

 

Becomes octopus-man. I'm telling' ya - if that guy only has two hands, I'll eat Mulder's tie. Not that I'm complainin'. No, definitely not complainin'. 

 

Cooperating. 

 

Enthusiastically. 

 

Pressing my hips - my cock - against him. 

 

Gasping at the fiery pleasure. 

 

Hands push at my shoulders. A voice keeps repeating my name. 

 

Don't bother me now, dammit! 

 

"John!" 

 

The voice breaks into my haze. "Wha- What is it?" Dragging my eyes open, I stare blankly at Skinner. 

 

"The chicken is done." 

 

Chicken? He's interrupting this over CHICKEN? 

 

My outrage knows no bounds. I glare at him. 

 

Fucker laughs. Rises to his feet and walks to the kitchen. "I'll at least turn the oven off - wouldn't want the fire department interrupting us, now would we?" 

 

Uh. I... Yeah. I mean, no... I mean - does this mean what I think it means? 

 

Apparently we're not only dating - we're about to fuck. 

 

Oh boy. Nervously, I listen as Skinner moves around in the kitchen... What the HELL is taking him so long? If he doesn't get back out here soon I'm gonna - well, I'm gonna lose my nerve. 

 

He walks back in and stops just in front of me. "Where?" he asks softly. 

 

Where? What? I just stare at him without comprehension. 

 

Finally it hits me. Where... "Um - I don't - what do you? - SHIT!" I ignore his grin and THINK. "Upstairs," I say weakly. "Yeah," my voice strengthens. "In bed - my bed." 

 

"Uh." 

 

I got him! Resisting the urge to dance with triumph, I take one of his hands in mine. "Come with me," I say. 

 

"Right. With you." 

 

Still pleased that I've actually managed to give him a taste of his own medicine, I lead the way upstairs and into my bedroom. Stop just inside of the doorway. Stare at the bed. 

 

Skinner gives me time. 

 

I stare some more. 

 

"John," he rumbles in my ear, "we don't have to-" 

 

WHAT? DON'T HAVE TO?! 

 

Is he crazy? 

 

"Oh, yes," I say with conviction. "Yes we do." 

 

"I don't want to rush you." 

 

Shit, rush me, already! 

 

He laughs. Fuck - I actually said that out loud. Lord, take me now... Taking me at my word, Skinner moves toward the dreaded bed, pushing me along in front of him. Numbly I allow it - as if I had a chance in hell of arguing right now. As if I had any INCLINATION to argue... 

 

The world spins and I gasp as I land on the mattress with a bounce. I stare up at him, reveling in the look of dazed admiration on his face. Teasingly, I stretch, still meeting his gaze. 

 

He growls. 

 

Damn, I like it when he does that. 

 

He climbs into the bed and drapes himself atop me. 

 

Oh... yeah - I like that, too. 

 

He kisses me. 

 

I stop thinking. 

 

Somehow we're both naked. I assume Skinner managed to accomplish this - I'm lost in admiration for his dexterity. I tell him so. 

 

"Hate to disappoint you, John-Boy, but YOU undressed us." 

 

I did? 

 

Wow. 

 

"So... " I challenge him, "must be your turn to do something." 

 

Mental note - NEVER challenge this man in bed. 

 

Before I know what's happenin', my cock is in his mouth. And, what a talented mouth it is! Squirming under his attentions, I find that I want- 

 

"Walt!" 

 

He ignores me. 

 

"WALT!" 

 

That doesn't work, but a tug on his ears does the trick. "What?" He's not sounding happy at my interruption. 

 

"Turn around," I say roughly. "I want to... I need to-" 

 

No protest at that - no, with a grunt, he shifts until we're in the classic 69 position. Then he takes me in his mouth again. 

 

Oh god! 

 

I have no recourse - I must... Opening my mouth, I return the favor. Damn, he tastes good. Salty - a little bitter - and his skin... the FEEL of his cock. 

 

I won't last. Not a chance in hell! Already I'm on the verge - and so is he. The head of his cock swells in my mouth and he freezes for a beat. Then - oh yeah - he's coming, pulsing in my mouth, pouring himself down my throat. 

 

At the first pulse - the first load of semen delivered into me - I lose it. I honestly don't remember ever coming so hard in my life... 

 

I collapse, my head resting on his thigh, and concentrate on breathing. 

 

Eventually he stirs. "'m hungry," he mumbles. 

 

"How romantic," I grouse. 

 

"We'll have plenty of time for that later - right now, I need sustenance." 

 

Later? 

 

MORE? 

 

Hell - I'm gonna need my energy for THIS! "Okay," I agree reluctantly. "Food now. Then..." 

 

He smiles at me with promise. "Oh yeah," he says, "THEN." 

 

With that promise in mind, we dress and walk down to eat our dinner.


	2. part 2 Lanie

I'm running as fast as I can. Beau is at my side, pacing me. We're not headed anyplace special - just running for the sheer joy of it.

 

He's a beautiful animal - a Black-n-Tan Coon Hound. Sleek and shiny, body taut with muscles... God, I love this dog. He's my best friend. My pride and joy.

 

All my friends are green with envy.

 

Now I'm in bed, Beau curled at my side keeping me warm on this cold winter night. Mama would KILL me if she knew - "No dogs in bed, Johnny," she says. "It's unsanitary."

 

Women!

 

I sigh and throw one arm around his shoulder, pulling him closer.

 

****

 

Reluctantly, I start to wake. Smile at the memory of my childhood companion. Damn, I'd loved that dog!

 

A warm body shifts, a heavy head comes to rest on my chest.

 

Am I still dreaming?

 

Heated breath blows gently across my face.

 

What the hell?

 

I open one eye and look down. Open the other and gasp. There's a dog in my bed. Black and tan. But.... SHIT! It's a Rottweiler! A BIG Rottie.

 

Heart pounding, I scramble out of the bed and stare at it in stunned amazement.

 

He - or is it a she? - fixes a reproachful look on me. Stretches languidly and rises to its feet.

 

Damn - this is a REALLY big dog. Gotta weigh at least a hundred pounds...

 

After shaking itself, the dog jumps off of the bed and walks over to the bedroom door. Waits patiently for me to get the message: "I wanna go out - NOW."

 

Okay - gotcha. Don't know where the hell you came from, but, for now, I'll just go along with it.

 

I stumble downstairs to the kitchen and let the dog outside. Look around. Hmmm... Bag of dog food, box of Milk Bones - the super large size - bowls, a colorful collection of toys on the table. Leash and collar - in pink - guess it's a girl.

 

And, a card. I open it and, surprise, surprise, Walter - good old Walt - is the culprit. I can just imagine him chortling to himself as he imagines my response.

 

Bastard.

 

Smart-ASSED bastard.

 

An impatient 'woof' tells me that she's done with her morning business. After letting her in (gotta put a towel or something down here - the muddy footprints she brings with her are NOT attractive) I open the box of treats and hand one over. Her eyes thank me, then she proceeds to eat her cookie - scattering crumbs all over my floor.

 

I'd managed to forget how messy dogs are.

 

The card has informed me that she eats one cup of food in the AM, two in the evening. And, her name is Elaine - 'Lainie' is her call name. With a sigh, I fix her a bowl of food, setting it down with a full bowl of water. Then, FINALLY, I fix myself a cup of coffee. We share our morning sustenance, then she comes over and lays across my feet.

 

Have I mentioned how BIG she is?

 

Why the hell has Walt gifted me with a dog? How did he manage to sneak in and leave her here? And, how do I refuse his present without hurting his feelings? I can't keep a dog. Don't even want to HAVE a dog.

 

Shit!

 

Lainie rolls onto her back and looks at me adoringly.

 

I'm in huge trouble here...

 

I'd always thought of Rotties as aggressive, dangerous, mean. This one though... such soft eyes. An apparently mellow personality. And she gives all the signs of being madly in love with me.

 

Damn that Walter. How did he know?

 

And, speaking of Walter... where the hell is he? I distinctly remember him being here last night. Falling asleep in my bed after a bout of exuberant sex. Yep, he was here, all right. So, where has he gone and what the hell is he up to now?

 

The mind boggles at the possibilities...

 

I'm just getting a second cup of caffeine when I hear it. Lainie hears it too and bounds into the living room, barking ferociously at the person daring to knock at my door. I know who it is - hell, who ELSE could it be? I wander over and unlock the deadbolt, pulling the door open.

 

Yep, it's him. Walter. Wearing a shit-eating grin.

 

Why do I put UP with him?

 

"Enter at your own risk," I say snarkily, as Lainie continues to show her protective nature in a most vocal manner.

 

He walks in - and damn that dog - she greets him enthusiastically. Falls all over the man, in fact. Kisses him. Actually whines her pleasure at seeing him. He kneels and returns the greeting.

 

Watching this touching little scene, I begin to suspect that this is really a present to himself. We'll just see about THAT!

 

"So," I ask sternly, arms propped on my hips. "Care to tell me what prompted this - why you've given me a dog... a BIG dog. One you know full well I can't keep?"

 

A blush colors his face and he won't meet my eyes. Ah ha!

 

"Walter?"

 

"I... um... well, you always tell me stories about Beau and... well, when my newest nephew turned out to be allergic to dogs-"

 

"Uh huh. You decided to dump her on ME?"

 

"Not 'dump' exactly," he says defensively. "You know I can't have a dog in the condo - and I've always been fond of her - and my sister BEGGED for my help, John."

 

"And just what do you expect me to do with her when I'm out of town on a case?"

 

"I'll move in and take care of her."

 

Huh. Now that he mentions it... But first, where the hell has he been?

 

"Okay, we'll discuss that a little later. How about some coffee? And, an explanation of just exactly where you ran off to this morning would be nice."

 

He shrugs. "Went home. I forgot the gifts we bought for Dana and William."

 

Oh. Oh shit. The last thing I want today is a trip to Scully's - I just know it'll bring back memories of holidays past.

 

He walks over and closes his arms around me, holding me close. "It'll be fine, John. You'll see."

 

I sigh and relax against him. He feels good - safe - warm.

 

A cold nose nudges at my midriff. I start and look down at Lainie. "Yeah? What do you want now?"

 

"She's just feeling left out, John."

 

"Great," I grumble. "Just what I needed - a needy woman in my life."

 

Skinner releases his hold on me and reaches down to scratch Lainie's head. "Say, didn't you offer me coffee?"

 

We head into the kitchen. I quickly fix his coffee - and another for myself. Settled at the table, he smiles at me. "Merry Christmas, John."

 

OH... I have a ...

 

Rising to my feet, I head out to the living room. "Was it something I said?" he asks plaintively.

 

"Hang on, big guy. I have something for you, too."

 

Returning, I nervously hand him an envelope. "I... hope you like it."

 

So slowly that I'm about to scream with impatience, he opens it and pulls out the card. Opens it. Carefully removes the key I've taped inside and looks at me curiously.

 

I clear my throat. Look at the floor, the stove, the ceiling. "I thought it was time, Walt. For you to have a key. For us to... um... I want us to spend more time together. Want to sleep with you every night. Wake up with you every morning. I want you to move in here with me."

 

He opens his mouth, but no sounds emerge. Damn. I've managed to strike him speechless!

 

Sure do hope this is a good thing...

 

Soft brown eyes meet mine, and he smiles. "John, I suppose this is a good time to tell you that I've fallen in love with you."

 

Wow!

 

Damn!

 

Now I've lost my ability to speak. Never really thought he'd actually return my feelings. Not in a million years. I rise to my feet with such force that my chair falls over backwards. Alarmed, he stands too, watching me with such hope - and more than a little fear. Rushing over to him, I throw myself at him, wrapping my arms around his neck.

 

"Walter... I love you, too."

 

He releases a heavy sigh and hugs me back.

 

"So, whaddya say we go upstairs? Fuck like bunnies." He pauses. "No, let's make love... like bunnies."

 

I don't know what I ever did to deserve this - him - never thought I'd fall in love again. But, hell, I'm happy - happier than I've been in years!

 

Grabbing his hand, I drag him up to the bedroom. Lainie seems to think this is a GREAT idea. Before we've even reached the room, she's in bed.

 

This won't work. Not at all. "Off!" I tell her in a stern voice. Reluctantly, she does as I say. I wave her out of the room, closing the door behind her.

 

"We're gonna have to get a larger bed, you know," Walt informs me. "She'll pout if we don't let her sleep with us."

 

Well, well, well. Looks like I have a housemate - a lover. And a dog.

 

A family.

 

I smile and nod. "We'll go shopping tomorrow."

 

"Good," he agrees. "Great"

 

I grin wickedly. "But right now..." I leap on him, pushing him onto the mattress. "We make love. Fuck... like bunnies."

 

"Thought you'd never ask," he says.

 

I could grow to like Christmas - now that I have him in my life...


	3. part 3 Sing Waller

I'm beat. Two weeks spent in rural Ohio is not my idea of a good time. Add to that the horrific nature of the crime Monica and I are working on, not to mention the fact that she keeps insisting that she *feels* the presence of "evil" in the community and I'm... Dammit, we're dealing with a straight forward serial killer, not a demon, or a ghost, or any of the other equally improbable scenarios she's come up with for this one.

 

The woman is driving me crazy. Sometimes I think she's Mulder in drag.

 

As the perp's pattern is pretty well established at this point, and he's not due to strike again until the next full moon (two weeks from today), we flipped a coin for the weekend off. Of course, once I'd won (trick coin) I called Walter and let him know I'd be in for a weekend of wild and uninhibited sex.

 

He seemed thrilled at the news. In his reserved AD/Marine kind of way. Said Lainie would be glad to see me. Told me how much she'd missed me (I have to sit him down and have a serious discussion on the dangers of anthropomorphizing one's pets). Allowed as how he'd have dinner waiting when I arrived late Friday night. Actually said he was looking forward to it. Never once questioned me about the advisability of leaving Monica here alone.

 

From Walt this is a *major* declaration of love.

 

So, as I pull up to the house and eagerly head inside, I'm looking forward to a wonderfully prepared meal, a few drinks and then some mind-blowing sex.

 

Shoulda known.

 

I walk in the back door and freeze. Silently, I gape at the disaster before me. Cereal all over the table and floor. Puddles of milk hither and yon. And... holy shit! What the *fuck* is going on here? I see jars of baby food. Baby bottles. Bibs. A high chair.

 

This can, in no way, be good.

 

Stepping carefully around the messes on the floor, I make my way to the door that leads into the living room. And, thee-rrre's Walter. Sound asleep on the couch.

 

Best of all, William Scully is draped across his chest, sleeping with that fierce concentration only a child can muster.

 

I'm fucked. Well, okay, more to the point, I *won't* be fucked. Not tonight, anyway.

 

Crossing the room is eerily reminiscent of crossing a field of land mines. William's toys cover an amazingly large portion of the floor. The vast number of playthings tells me that the kid is here for at least a couple of days.

 

I think Walter's lost his ever lovin' mind. Doesn't he *know*...

 

No, I guess he doesn't. He and Sharon never had kids and his siblings live far enough away that Walt has never had the opportunity to see first hand just how much attention an eighteen-month old child requires.

 

Well, he's about to find out. All on his own, too. If he's gonna ruin my weekend by having a toddler in the house, he'll damn well provide me with some entertainment.

 

To that end, I lean down and nudge his shoulder. With a little more force than is strictly necessary, yeah. Can you blame me?

 

A snort. A sigh. A groan. And... there we go, his eyes open and stare up at me with an adorably befuddled expression. "John?"

 

I shrug. "Who else?"

 

"I... I guess I fell asleep. I was a little tired," he admits - as if I couldn't have figured that one out myself. "William kept me running all evening."

 

//I'll just *bet* he did//

 

I raise one eyebrow. "Speaking of William... "

 

"Oh. Yeah. Well, Scully had to go out of town unexpectedly and she called me and asked if we could watch him this weekend."

 

"And you just couldn't say no?"

 

He offers me a weak smile. "Her mother's away and there really wasn't anyone else..."

 

"Tell me, Walt, exactly how much time have you spent around toddlers?"

 

He speaks in a low voice, adroitly evading my stare, "Er... none, really. But I thought that you might be willing to help me out."

 

"You did, did you?" I smile affably as I shake my head. "Not a chance in hell, Walt. You said yes to this - you take care of him."

 

With a crestfallen look, he sits up, carefully bringing William's limp body with him. "Okay, John. I'll uh, just muddle my way through this on my own."

 

Ha! It won't work, big guy. No way. I've been manipulated by the best - compared to my ex, you, sir, are a rank amateur.

 

"You'll be just fine, Walt," I say heartily. "Now, I'm hungry so you take the rugrat up to bed and I'll heat up my dinner."

 

"Er-"

 

"Don't tell me, in all the confusion, you forgot to make that dinner you promised me."

 

"Well, it's just been so hectic since Scully dropped William off. It kind of... slipped my mind."

 

"No problem, Walt. I'll just rummage around in the cupboards. I'm sure we have something."

 

By the time Walt returns to the kitchen, I'm happily devouring a bowl of cereal. Simple, fast, and best of all, only one dish to clean up. He pauses in the doorway, an expression of guilt clear on his face.

 

"John, I..."

 

"Walt. Don't worry about it. This is fine. Just let me finish it and we can head up to bed."

 

"I'm gonna hop in the shower while you eat."

 

"Great." I wave my spoon at him for emphasis. "Go ahead. I'll be right up.

 

" * * * * * * *

 

Ahhhh. *This* is what I've been needing. His touch. His kisses. His warm breath caressing various parts of my body. His tongue. Yeah. His tongue. *Right* there.

 

"Fuu-uuck," I moan, arching up into the wonderful wetness of his mouth. God! What this man can do with his mouth is un-fucking-believable. I'm close, so fucking close... My hands tighten around his bald head and I'm just about to shoot when-

 

"Waller! WALLER!"

 

"What the *fuck*?"

 

"That's William. Scully said he doesn't sleep much."

 

Well, isn't that great? Wonderful. Peachy keen, even. She's stuck us with an insomniac kid.

 

I groan and roll onto my side. "You'd better go see what he wants."

 

"She said that sometimes he goes back to sleep on his own."

 

*Thud*

 

*Scrabble*

 

*Pat, pat, pat, pat*

 

The door to our bedroom is thrown open, revealing one decidedly pouty William Scully. "Wanna sleep *here*, Waller." He stamps one foot for emphasis.

 

"But, William, you have your own bed. Mommy said you *liked* your bed."

 

No. He's never been around toddlers or he'd know that the obstinate tone of voice and the foot stamping have sealed his - our - fate.

 

"NO! Sleep here - with Waller and JohnDog."

 

"But... "

 

I elbow Walt in the ribs. "Walt, just go along with it. You don't stand a chance here, lover." I look over at William and note the way he's shifting restlessly from one foot to the other. "William, if you're going to sleep here, you have to go potty first." Damned if I'm gonna wake up in a urine soaked bed.

 

The kids lower lip juts out. If I'd ever had any doubts before, I am now *sure* that this is Mulder's kid. Who knew that pouts were genetically linked?

 

"Waller, you come with me."

 

"Yeah, *Waller*, escort our guest to the bathrooom."

 

With a put upon sigh, Walt climbs out of the bed and walks over to William. "C'mon, then. Let's go."

 

William, however, is staring at Walt's half-hard cock with intense concentration. "Your pee-pee," he announces, "Is bigger than mine. And it's hairy."

 

I'm in serious danger of falling off of the bed I'm laughing so hard. The expression on Walt's face is just priceless. And, if the lights were on, I *know* I would see the vivid blush William's words have evoked in Mr-Calm-Always-In-Control AD Skinner.

 

The entertainment value alone almost makes up for the fact that sex is definitely not going to be on the agenda this weekend. Almost.

 

"Is JohnDog's pee-pee like that too?"

 

Skinner clears his throat. "Ah, yeah. It is. And so will yours be when you grow up."

 

Seemingly satisfied with that answer, William allows himself to be taken to the bathroom. When they return, I'm just about asleep. I grunt and move over making room for our guest. Once we're all settled, I can't help but remember another boy, in years past, making the same demand. Asking the same question.

 

And many other, equally uncomfortable, questions.

 

For once, the memories don't sadden me. All I can do is grin, looking forward to watching Walter deal with this.

 

* * * * * * *

 

Many years of experience tell me that the sounds I'm hearing bode ill for our kitchen. Oh well. I'll enjoy watching Walt clean up the mess his charge is undoubtedly creating.

 

"Walter."

 

He grunts.

 

"*Walter*!"

 

He snuffles disgruntedly and pulls the comforter over his head.

 

"WALTER!"

 

"Huh?" he fumbles the covers away from his face and glares at me. "Why the fuck-"

 

A loud crash from the kitchen stops his words cold. I watch, with no small amount of amusement, as realization dawns. With a pained groan, he runs both hands over his face and rubs at his eyes.

 

"I need coffee," he states.

 

"Well, I'd suggest that you go out to the kitchen, get that kid under control and put a pot of coffee on while you clean up the mess he's in the process of making."

 

He tries the sad, puppy-dog eyes on me.

 

"No way, lover. I'm tired. *You* go out and take care of *your* charge. I'm gonna sleep a little more."

 

"But-"

 

"Forget it, Walt." I wave one hand in a dismissive gesture. "Go on, take care of William. I'll be up in a little bit."

 

Mumbling under his breath, he pulls on a pair of sweats and heads out to corral William.

 

"Close the door, would you?" I murmur as he leaves the room.

 

I can't help but snicker at the rather forceful way he pulls the door shut behind him.

 

* * * * * * *

 

Reluctantly, I struggle to wake. I don't really want to, but can't resist the urge to go out and see what's going on. I can hear squeals of high-pitched laughter and I'm kinda looking forward to finding out what mischief William is up to now.

 

Surprisingly, Walt has somehow managed to find a video tape that seems to amuse William no end. The kid is sitting right in front of the television, entranced by the Sesame Street song tape Walt has playing. As I wander down the stairs in search of coffee, his eyes rise to meet mine.

 

//You see?// His eyes say triumphantly. //I *can* do this//

 

Uh huh.

 

"Coffee," I croak.

 

"Help yourself, John. The pot in the kitchen is fresh."

 

I stumble in and manage to pour myself a cup of steaming liquid without any spills. Not an easy feat in my sleep-dazed state. Coffee in hand, I walk back to join Walt and William.

 

"Waller, *you* sing."

 

My eyes widen. Choking on the mouthful of hot beverage I am doing my damnedest to swallow when I hear this statement, I fall into the nearest chair.

 

Poor Walt. After facing innumerable life threatening situations, dealing with the morass of governmental bureaucracy, keeping control of any number of recalcitrant Agents under his command, he's finding that one toddler is more trouble than anything he's ever dealt with before.

 

"William," he says reasonably, "I don't sing."

 

An emphatic nod of William's head. "Yes you do, Waller. Mommy *said* so."

 

Skinner's jaw clenches. Somehow, I suspect that Scully will pay dearly for that.

 

William grabs the remote and rewinds the tape to the beginning of the song he apparently feels is the perfect vehicle for Walter's voice. "There," he says. "You sing this song, Waller."

 

Pleading brown eyes fix on me.

 

Uh uh. Not a chance, Walter.

 

Impatiently, William pauses the tape. "Waller, you SING."

 

Defeated by the pouty lip William directs at him, Skinner sighs heavily. "Fine, William. I'll... sing." Using his best AD glare, Walt warns me, "If I hear even *one* snicker out of you, John Doggett... "

 

It ain't easy, but I manage to conceal my unholy glee at seeing this powerful man brought to his knees by a toddler. Biting the inside of my cheek, I get through it with only one coughing fit.

 

When the tape finally runs its course, Walter rises from the couch and stretches. "Play for a while, okay, William. I have to clean up the kitchen."

 

//I'll say you do!//

 

The lower lip makes another appearance. "No. I wanna take Lainie walking."

 

Walt sighs. "As soon as I'm done in the kitchen."

 

"No. *Now*."

 

Shoulder's slumped, Walt sighs. "Fine, William. We'll walk now. But, when we get back, I have to clean."

 

Happy that he's gotten his way, William throws himself at Skinner's legs, wrapping both arms tightly around Walt's knees. "Thank you, Waller. I love you."

 

This kid is *good*.

 

Awkwardly withdrawing from William's enthusiastic reaction, Walt pats him on the head. "C'mon, we need our coats and shoes."

 

It takes a bit of work - William seems to find that not helping with the task of shoving his feet into the boots Scully brought over makes things all the more entertaining - but, finally, both of them are dressed, Lainie is collared and leashed and ready to go.

 

As they head out the front door, I hear William demanding to hold Lainie's leash himself. I peer out of the window and, sure enough, by the time they've reached the sidewalk, William has managed to convince Walt that a three foot tall, thirty eight pounder can control a dog of Lainie's size.

 

I hope all three return in one piece.

 

* * * * * * *"

 

William, you have to eat."

 

The kid shoots an assessing look at Walter. Crosses his chubby arms across his chest and shakes his head forcefully. "You *sing* first."

 

* * * * * * *

 

And so it goes. Watching William wrap Walter around his little finger is more amusing than I can relate. I can almost forgive the idiot for actually agreeing to take William on this weekend.

 

Bath time is especially fun. That kid *loves* the water. Seems to assume that Walt feels the same way as he invariably manages to get the older man soaked every single time they brave the bathtub.

 

I don't need to tell you that William sleeps with us again on Saturday night, do I?

 

He also wakes up from his nap just as I'm starting to ease my aching cock into Walt's body. "WALLER!" he yells from his room. With a groan, Walt dons his sweats and leaves our bedroom. I'd be angry in addition to frustrated if I wasn't finding the whole thing so very amusing.

 

Then he figures out how to get the safety gate open and proceeds to make an unholy mess in the basement while Walt is 'resting his eyes' during halftime of the ball game he's trying to watch.

 

And, best of all, William continues to make Walt sing at every opportunity. The kid's a genius at manipulating 'Waller'.

 

Why 'Waller'? Why 'JohnDog'? Yeah, the kid's language skills are pretty amazing. And so, apparently, is his ability to judge exactly how much he can get away with. I strongly suspect that he's doing this on purpose. Every time Walt flinches at being called 'Waller' this self-satisfied expression comes over the kids face.

 

He really does take after his old man, the little shit.

 

* * * * * * *

 

Finally, not a moment too soon, Scully repossesses her son. Once they're on their way, Walt collapses onto the sofa. "Jesus, John, I never imagined that one little kid could create such havoc."

 

"So," I can't help gloating, "you'll think twice before taking in any more toddlers?"

 

"Fuck you, John."

 

But, even as he says this, his eyelids have drooped to half mast and he's smothering a yawn. "'m tired and hungry," he mumbles.

 

Deciding to take pity on him, I leave him in peace and busy myself making dinner. When it's done, I gently wake him and sit with him on the couch, watching a rerun of Stargate while we eat.

 

The show ends, I clean up the mess from dinner, then head back into the living room. "Bedtime, Walt."

 

He grunts and holds out one hand in a request for assistance. I haul him upstairs and shove him into the bathroom for a shower. While he's accomplishing that, I repack my luggage. No sense in not taking advantage of this opportunity to replace the two suits that I've been wearing for the last two weeks.

 

The water shuts off, and after a moment, Walt walks in. Sees my suitcase and sighs heavily. "When do you leave?"

 

"Six A.M."

 

"Oh shit."

 

Got it in one, big guy.

 

"Listen, I'm gonna go shower, too. You wait for me, you hear?"

 

He grins. "You can count on it."

 

I rush through my shower, giving my body a cursory wash. Once dry (well, mostly dry) I eagerly walk back into the bedroom. One night, I've decided, is better than none. And, I *did* manage to get my mind off of the case. The Waller-n-William show has been damned entertaining.

 

He's kept his word. Stretched out on the mattress, he's watching my entry with no effort to conceal his appreciation of my body, or his desire for me.

 

I cross the room and crawl up the length of his body teasingly brushing against him softly along the way. Impatient, he wraps both arms and legs around me and pulls me down atop him.

 

"I've missed you," he admits softly.

 

"Been here all weekend," I remind him.

 

He blushes. "I'm, uh, sorry about that John. I just couldn't-"

 

"-turn her down," I say, finishing his sentence.

 

If possible, his blush intensifies.

 

I laugh. "Walter, this is *our* home. Dana is *our* friend. You don't need to apologize. Let's just," I shift my hips, bringing our matching erections into contact, "make love. I need you, Walt. Need something to take back with me into that hellish case."

 

A grin appears on his mouth, and a delightfully evil twinkle lurks in the depths of his brown eyes. I'm just about to achieve liplock when the fucking phone rings.

 

"Doggett," I bark into the damned thing.

 

"John... "

 

I know that voice. Even more frightening, I recognize the insistent voice in the background...

 

"Waller sing, Mommy. Want Waller to SING!"

 

"William wants... er, he won't go to bed until he hears-"

 

"- Waller sing," I sigh. "I know."

 

Resigned, I hand the phone to Walt. "You're fanclub is on the phone, *Waller*"

 

He groans, but takes the phone. "Dana? Put him on the line."

 

I shift to one side, pulling the blankets up to my shoulders and prepare to sleep.

 

I drift off to the sound of Walter's husky baritone singing...

__

_Rubber Ducky, you're the one,_

_You make bathtime lots of fun,_

_Rubber Ducky, I'm awfully fond of you_

_Woo woo be doo._

_Rubber Ducky, joy of joys,_

_When I squeeze you, you make noise!_

_Rubber Ducky, you're my very best friend, it's true!_

_Doo doo doo doo, doo doo._

_Every day when I_

_Make my to the tubby I find a little fella who's_

_Cute and yellow and chubby_

_Rub-a-dub-a-dubby!_

_Rubber Ducky, you're so fine_

_And I'm lucky that you're mine_

_Rubber ducky, I'm awfully fond of you._

_Every day when I_

_Make my to the tubby_

_I find a little fella who's_

_Cute and yellow and chubby_

_Rub-a-dub-a-dubby!_

_Rub-a-dub-a-dubby!_

_Rubber ducky, I'm awfully fond of..._

_Rubber ducky, I'd like a whole pond of..._

_Rubber ducky I'm awfully fond of..._

_Rubber ducky I'm awfully fond of..._

_Rubber ducky I'm awfully fond of you!_

_Doo doo, be doo._


End file.
